


Appreciation

by RisuAlto



Series: Tumblr Ask Prompt Fills [18]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Scott isn't irritating, Gen, Hugs, I don't really watch Teen Wolf tbh but I tried my best, Male Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 17:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21480019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisuAlto/pseuds/RisuAlto
Summary: It had been years since Stiles had managed to arrange a proper sleepover.  He remembered, from years ago, how much fun it was to stay up late, whispering secrets when his dad couldn’t hear like they held the meaning of life and death, stifling laughter and muffling footfalls when someone inevitably decided it was a good idea to get up and sneak cheese and pretzels from the kitchen.He hadn’t remembered what an absolute pain in the back it was trying to get the spare mattress into his room.
Relationships: Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Series: Tumblr Ask Prompt Fills [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547980
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Appreciation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nana_banana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nana_banana/gifts).

> This prompt was, "Sleepy hug."
> 
> Ngl, I'm not entirely happy with this piece. It's my story that's gotten the most negative feedback. But I wrote this for Nana, and they liked it, so I'm keeping it up. <3

It had been years since Stiles had managed to arrange a proper sleepover. He remembered, from years ago, how much fun it was to stay up late, whispering secrets when his dad couldn’t hear like they held the meaning of life and death, stifling laughter and muffling footfalls when someone inevitably decided it was a good idea to get up and sneak cheese and pretzels from the kitchen.

He hadn’t remembered what an absolute pain in the back it was trying to get the spare mattress into his room. Little Stiles never had to deal with that, so it was only now that he understood why his dad would sigh with such resignation whenever Stiles asked to have Scott over for the night. And yes, it was always Scott.

“Dude, what are you—” Speak of the devil. 

“Fucking air mattress,” Stiles hissed. “So you have somewhere to sleep that isn’t on the floor.”

He couldn’t see Scott past the expanse of grey and slightly-darker-bumpy-grey, but he heard a couple of rushed footsteps and a sigh before the awkward weight in his arms all but vanished. “Here, let me get it,” he heard Scott say.

_Right_, Stiles thought, shaking his arms out. _Werewolf strength means more than just fighting people in the woods._

“You could’ve just done that to start with,” he said aloud, though.

“And you could’ve blown the mattress up _in_ your room instead of carrying it up two flights of stairs, but go off, I guess,” Scott said, moving past Stiles and setting the mattress on the ground to slide through Stiles’s door.

“No _way_ was I going to try and run an air pump while my dad’s asleep,” Stiles whisper-yelled as he followed the mattress through the door.

Scott shrugged as he finally kicked the mattress into place next to Stiles’s bed and promptly fell onto it, face buried into the lumpy surface like it was made of the softest down known to man. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

Stiles snorted, muffling the sound with a hand. “You don’t have any sheets or pillows on that thing, and you’re already falling asleep?”

“I’m tired, dude,” said Scott, not raising his head. But the words struck Stiles like a shear wind. It was a simple enough sentence, something he was sure every high schooler in Beacon Hills had muttered a version of at least a few times a year. The way Scott said it, though, all in a single exhale that seemed to be pushed out by a weight on his chest and not his own will, left Stiles feeling cold and scared.

He found himself nearly stumbling over the edge of the air mattress, not sure exactly when he’d started walking, but caught himself on his own bedpost and slowly sat down. His hands fell to his lap, twisting fingers into the cotton of his sleep pants. “I know,” he said.

Scott rolled over, knees curling up so that he was lying almost in a semi-circle around where Stiles was sitting. His face was heavy with fatigue, but his eyes were somehow still warm, despite everything, as he stared up at Stiles with a drowsy smirk. “Like always,” Scott muttered, and Stiles’s brain lagged a second over the implied compliment. Something must have shown on his face, because Scott continued, “Sometimes being…like _this_ is great, but sometimes it’s just…dumb, you know? And I was just thinking that it’d probably be a lot worse if I didn’t have you.”

Stiles grinned to himself, but it was frail at the edges as he said, “Well, you know how it goes. Every hero’s got to have a funny sidekick.”

Something brushed against Stiles’s waist, and he looked down to see Scott’s arm wrapped loosely around him. Scott’s eyes were closed now, but his brow furrowed and he shook his head. “Not just ‘cause you’re funny, Stiles. ‘Cause you’re normal.”

“Ouch,” Stiles said. He reached down to pat Scott’s arm, expecting him to let go, but instead, Stiles found himself caught in _both_ of Scott’s arms instead.

“But, like, badass,” Scott said. His words started to blur together, even as a smile tugged at his lips. “Badass normal.” And that simple phrase was enough to light a tiny spark of pride in Stiles’s chest. He’d take badass normal.

Stiles reached behind himself, settling a hand on Scott’s back as he heard his friend’s breathing even out. Now, if only he could learn to be that sympathetic when he was conscious.


End file.
